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Showing posts with label True Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label True Stories. Show all posts

20180420

In Case You Missed It

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Her name is Polly Boiko...



And she is a hoot!



This is the kind of stuff that the Rachel Maddow of old used to do—before she sold out and morphed into the Glenn Beck of MSNBC.



It is also the kind of stuff SNL used to do back in the days, when they did not carry water for the man and had not sacrificed their soul on the altar of Political Correctness.





DISCLAIMER:

- RT is "funded in whole or in part by the Russian government."
- And MSNBC is owned by Corporate Media.

Now you know...



When questioned about the ads, Anna Belkina, the director of strategic development and head of communications at RT, said that "President Putin personally approved" the copy in the ads.

When asked if that was a joke, she responded that "Russians are not allowed to joke about Putin."

Sarcasm is lost on some people:





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20130708

20130522

Brave New American Century

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Is this guy for real?

LOL

Oh my, my, me, my
Kindly would you reply
'Zat you Cass Sunstein?



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Related Entry: They Hate Us For Our Freedom
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20110202

The arrogance of some people




Oops! My apologies. The above news report is a mistake, of course. So sorry about that, sir; quantum fluctuations such as this one do sometimes cause news from one dimension to crop up from one reality to another.

Theorists who have studied the phenomenon say it happens all the time. Something to do with the location of The Wulfshead. Especially on Groundhog Day.

No, not terrorists; "theorists," sir. The gentleman may safely put his gun away, now.

For each distinct way the world could have been, there is said to be a distinct possible world in existence somewhere in some other dimension. Or so they say. I wouldn't know, sir.

The actual world, sir?

Why, for the gentleman's purpose, it would have to be the reality the gentleman in fact lives in. At that particular place and time. And in that particular dimension. In that particular manifestation of The Wulfshead — wherever or whenever that may be, at any given place or time.

And, ah, here comes the actual report that should have been presented to the gentleman today.



Please, do disregard that earlier release, sir. I apologize for any inconvenience it may have caused.

The hors d'oeuvres are on the house.



In celebration of the Lunar New Year...

Rabbit Wings, sir! —— You don't want to know.
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20101228

Once upon a time there was...

- 'A king!' my little readers will say at once.
No, children, you are mistaken.
Once upon a time there was a piece of wood.

You might not have guessed it, but these are the opening lines of the classic Carlo Collodi's 1881 tale made famous worldwide by Disney's 1940 cartoon.

This recent remake, while still a work in progress, has proven, thus far, a troubling but well crafted adaptation.



Like in the original tale, the plot involves a wooden puppet named Pinocchio being brought to life by a blue fairy, who tells him he can become a real boy if he proves himself brave, truthful, and able to tell right from wrong by listening to his conscience.



Pinocchio doesn't understand what a conscience is, and Jiminy appears to explain it to him.

However, Pinocchio is led astray by the conniving Honest Joe and Gideon, who convince him to join Stromboli's puppet show instead.



The songs are all memorable and great. My favorites are "Give a little whistle," "When you wish upon a star," and "An actor's life for me."

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20101211

The trouble about man is twofold...

He cannot learn truths which are too complicated;
he forgets truths which are too simple.
~Rebecca West



The same is true of the men who make all these important decisions for you, the powerful rulers of the megacorporations that run your world, and the lowly politicians who crave their favors.

(Leaning over the bar) They...(whispering) can't handle the truth.

(Giggling)

(Leaning back and reaching for a bottle) But you're different.

You showed concern for me.

Let me put your mind at ease: I am not as young as you assume - not by your standards. And, yes, I work here of my own free will.

You've been asking nicely.

(Pouring another drink) And so, this one is on me:

There is a worm at the heart of the tower.
That is why it will not stand.

But you already knew that.

It is an old story.


Say ‘please’ before you open the latch,
go through,
walk down the path.
A red metal imp hangs from the green-painted front door,
as a knocker,
do not touch it; it will bite your fingers.
Walk through the house. Take nothing. Eat nothing.
However,
if any creature tells you that it hungers,
feed it.
If it tells you that it is dirty,
clean it.
If it cries to you that it hurts,
if you can,
ease its pain.

From the back garden you will be able to see the wild wood.
The deep well you walk past leads down to Winter’s realm;
There is another land at the bottom of it.
If you turn around here,
you can walk back, safely;
you will lose no face. I will think no less of you.

Once through the garden you will be in the wood.
The trees are old. Eyes peer from the undergrowth.
Beneath a twisted oak sits an old woman. She may ask for something;
give it to her. She
will point the way to the castle. Inside it
are three princesses.
Do not trust the youngest. Walk on.
In the clearing beyond the castle the twelve months sit about a fire,
warming their feet, exchanging tales.
They may do favours for you, if you are polite.
You may pick strawberries in December’s frost.

Trust the wolves, but do not tell them where you are going.
The river can be crossed by the ferry. The ferryman will take you.
(The answer to his question is this:
If he hands the oar to his passenger, he will be free to leave the boat.
Only tell him this from a safe distance.)


If an eagle gives you a feather, keep it safe.
Remember: that giants sleep too soundly; that
witches are often betrayed by their appetites;
dragons have one soft spot, somewhere, always;
hearts can be well hidden,
and you betray them with your tongue.

Do not be jealous of your sister:
know that diamonds and roses
are as uncomfortable when they tumble from one’s lips as toads and frogs:
colder, too, and sharper, and they cut.

Remember your name.
Do not lose hope – what you seek will be found.
Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped to help you in their turn.
Trust dreams.
Trust your heart, and trust your story.

When you come back, return the way you came.
Favours will be returned, debts be repaid.

Do not forget your manners.
Do not look back.
Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall).
Ride the silver fish (you will not drown).
Ride the grey wolf (hold tightly to his fur).

There is a worm at the heart of the tower; that is why it will not stand.

When you reach the little house, the place your journey started,
you will recognise it, although it will seem much smaller than you remember.
Walk up the path, and through the garden gate you never saw before but once.
And then go home. Or make a home.

Or rest.

~Neil Gaiman, "Instructions"


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20101017

Balada do Rei das Sereias


It's the name of a poem by Manuel Bandeira.



O rei atirou
Seu anel ao mar
E disse às sereias:
– Ide-o lá buscar,
Que se o não trouxerdes,
Virareis espuma
Das ondas do mar!

Foram as sereias,
Não tardou, voltaram
Com o perdido anel.
Maldito o capricho
De rei tão cruel!

O rei atirou
Grãos de arroz ao mar
E disse às sereias:
– Ide-os lá buscar,
Que se os não trouxerdes,
Virareis espuma
Das ondas do mar!

Foram as sereias
Não tardou, voltaram,
Não faltava um grão.
Maldito o capricho
Do mau coração!

O rei atirou
Sua filha ao mar
E disse às sereias:
– Ide-a lá buscar,
Que se a não trouxerdes,
Virareis espuma
Das ondas do mar!

Foram as sereias...
Quem as viu voltar?...
Não voltaram nunca!
Viraram espuma
Das ondas do mar.


I wish I could find an English translation of it.


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20100720

Ten of Swords


In its upright position, the ten of swords represents absolute destruction, being
pinned down by a multitude of things or situations.

The Ten of Swords is the most grim card in the deck, more destructive and reminiscent of death than the Death card itself. Again, the dark clouds depicted above the person signify despair and a terribly bleak situation. However, upon closer examination of the images in the card, any real death or destruction, like all things, may not be permanent. There is hope regardless of the situation: the golden sky in the distance suggests that this is the worst the querant's situation could possibly be, and that things will only improve.

In the card's reversed state, it symbolizes a troubling situation that will continue for a significant amount of time.

More here and here.
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20090929

Happy he who like Ulysses





Ulysse - Ridan



Happy he who like Ulysses has returned successful from his travels,
Or like he who sought the Golden Fleece,
Then returned, wise to the world,
Live amongst his family to the end of his age!
---Joachim du Bellay


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Days of open hand

The gentleman knows I cannot possibly answer THAT -- even if I knew the answer, sir.

Why, no, I suppose not... No harm in asking Madame Rosinka, sir...



Or failing that, and closer to home, there is always the strange little fellow by the fireside.

Actually...I did take it upon myself to submit the gentleman's question to his attention.

He seemed quite amused by it. And quite pleased -- a little bit too eager, if you ask me, sir.

No, he didn't say anything. He just pulled out some cards and laid out three of them for me on the counter, sir.

The cards are till right there.

His kind is fond of bothersome practical joke, so I wouldn't read too much into it.

The first card is The Changeling, sir. And, ah, it is reversed.



The first card in a layout such as this one traditionally stands for the past. It indicates what has happened to affect the gentleman's question.

The card in the middle typically stands for the present and is supposed to represent what is affecting the gentleman's question.



Why, yes, it is a Fire Drake, sir.

No, I am not familiar with that particular deck.

The gentleman is right, the last card is about the future. A Selkie, sir.



I don't know.

The gentleman does realize that I have no idea what any of those cards mean, doesn't he?

Maybe the gentleman can ask around. Or try his luck online.


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20090616

Ahmadine...chads

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Golly, it's true! History does repeat itself...


I wonder how it shall all end this time around.

Chief Justice William Rehnquist (2000)----------Grand Ayatollah Ali Khamenei (2009)

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20090601

An eerie tale to go with your Ale

Oh Bartender! Trade me a pint for a true story? Fabulous! I thought you might. ;-)

One of my very first customer duos was a middle aged man who would bring his elderly mother to my shoppe once per month. She seemed to be on the verge of the end but sure did love selecting a variety of pastries jinterspersed with a bit of convo. They both seemed very kind, very... errr... shall we say "normal" (a category I personally try to stay far far away from). The type of folk that would chuckle at the mundane, converse stoically about weather & go on about how the good 'ole days are never to be duplicated again (especially after seeing my prices). I would chuckle along with them & spew forth some nonsensical drivel, even though I generally despise that type of thing, because they were good customers after all.

Years passed & their visits became ritual. I never did secure any hard facts about either of them- but hey, I'm great at supposition, so what did it matter?! All I needed to know was this: if a mid-forties, soft-spoken gentleman who dresses like a priest, was living with his Mother in this day & age... why... it's quite obvious he was channeling Norman Bates.

Yes I am serious! Oh you're laughing at me are you?! You won't think it's funny when I tell you that one fateful day, he arrived at my shoppe ALONE. I knew darn well he had murdered his mother, taxidermified her himself, propped her body up in his basement & proceeded to stop by for pastry. I assume he figured my Angelfood Cake was exculpatory.




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20090331

A little child was leading them...


They all sat at my table.


And the man said:


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20090307

True Lies


As a reservoir of the collective unconscious, as a spontaneous or calculated expression inspired by the universal community, as prophetic language, art reveals man to himself.

If politics often lie, art cannot lie. The artist cannot lie because his creations are imaginary and imagination unmasks human significance. Standing at the frontier between reality and unreality, art connects our world to the world beyond.

Art takes us to the edge of mystery. If it does not give us the key―since no human effort can obtain it for us―it at least leaves the door open to life beyond life, beyond nothingness. Better than philosophy lost in erudition, art confronts us with our own inquiry into our ultimate fate. And this inquiry is already the beginning of an answer.

Politics separate men by bringing them together only superficially. Art and culture unite us in a common anguish that is our only possible fraternity, that of our existential and metaphysical community.

Art is everything. Art is nothing if one does not commit oneself to it completely. If a masterpiece has failed to move you, it is because you did not look, you did not understand it, you did not let it speak. Every apprehension of a piece of art is a struggle and a suffering. Art requires that one place everything in doubt all over again.

Ionesco on Politics: How Strange, How Bizarre and What a Coincidence!
(Translated from the French by Sylvie Drake of The Times.)
Playwright Eugene Ionesco is the author of numerous plays, including "The Bold Soprano," "The Lesson," "Rhinoceros" and "Journey Among the Dead."

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True Stories


Did I mention that I was born with a tail? My mother keeps it in a jar in the medicine cabinet, next to the monkey blood.

—> <—

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